


Sleeping Beauty's Sweet Revenge

by novamare



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A slutty one but still, Anal Sex, Bottom Gladiolus Amicitia, Bottom Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis is king of handjobs, M/M, No seriously it's only, Noctis Lucis Caelum is a Brat, Oral Sex, Polyship Roadtrip, Prompto Argentum is a Ray of Sunshine, Prompto Argentum's Camera, Rimming, Smut, Unrepentant PWP, actually everyone's verse, is full of amateur porn, they all fuck each other - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novamare/pseuds/novamare
Summary: Noctis is NOT a morning person. Gladio wakes him up, pisses him off, and leaves Noctis in a shitty mood all day. Until Ignis and Prompto make it all better and Gladio gets his comeuppance.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	Sleeping Beauty's Sweet Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I am aggressively late to this fandom but it's still my first ffxv fic so go easy lol

Watching the sunrise over the desert with an Ebony coffee might just be Ignis’s favorite part of camping out with the boys. Well, after accounting for the sex, although that’s such a given at this point that he doesn’t consider it part of camping, rather just a fact of their proximity. But this? The smooth, rich coffee and the surprisingly comfortable folding chair and the brisk breeze and the pinkish orange light of the sun cresting the horizon? That makes all the trouble of camping worth it.

  
Of course Ignis is always the first up. As cozy as it is in the tent with the boys—although really, “cozy” is a nice code for “cramped, hot, and smelly”—Ignis can never manage to fall back asleep once he’s awake and honestly doesn’t want to, if it means he’ll miss his chance at watching a sunrise in solitary peace.

  
It’s not long, though, before Prompto crawls out of the tent and starts bustling around. He tries, Ignis knows, Prompto honest to Six tries to be quiet, but it’s just not in him, and the tranquility of the sunrise is lost.

“Morning, Iggy,” Prompto says, his voice still a bit husky from sleep, as he grabs his camera and squints through its viewfinder before snapping a quick shot of the sunrise. He glances down at the shot afterwards and smiles, and Ignis is always charmed by that easy, guileless delight.

  
“Good morning,” Ignis says. His own voice is deeper than usual, and he clears his throat until he sounds like himself again. Reaching out toward Prompto, he asks, “Are you going to share?”

  
Prompto glances at him and his smile softens, warms up his eyes although their clear blue is rarely icy. He hands Ignis the camera and bends over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Ignis’s mouth, just enough to taste the bitterness of the coffee there. Ignis can’t help himself and turns to catch Prompto’s lips in a proper kiss. Sure, it’s no secluded, personal sunrise, but it’s peaceful enough.

  
“You two are eager this morning, aren’t you,” Gladio remarks dryly as he emerges from the tent, looking just as exhausted as he should, considering the events of the night before. 

Prompto pulls away from Ignis, leaving the camera in the adviser’s hands, and steps up to Gladio, giving the bodyguard’s built chest a firm pat. “Morning, big guy. How’d you sleep?”

  
Attempting his best grimace, Gladio reaches around to grope Prompto’s ass as he says, “Like a baby.”

  
“I can only assume,” Ignis interrupts as he looks up from Prompto’s photo, “that no baby has ever fallen asleep with Prom’s tongue up their ass. Therefore, you hardly slept like a baby. Would that be a fair assessment?” Noticing the flush of Gladio’s chest and neck, which quickly rises to his cheeks, Ignis smirks and says, “Lovely picture, Prompto. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

  
Beaming happily, Prompto goes up on his tiptoes to give an almost bashful Gladio a kiss on the neck before grabbing his camera from Ignis and flopping into his folding chair.

  
“So,” Gladio diverts, trying not to think about how his three lovers ganged up on him the night before, if only to avoid getting hard enough to provoke them to do it again so early in the morning. Collapsing into his own chair, legs spread out wide, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Gladio looks at Ignis and says, “Breakfast?”

  
“How polite,” Ignis quips, although he stands to light a small propane stove.

  
Prompto’s leg bounces as he holds the camera to his face and points its lens at Gladio, who poses for the shot despite trying to look somewhat annoyed. “What a pretty boy,” Prompto says with a grin, knowing it’ll make Gladio’s face scrunch up in faux disgust. When it does, he presses the shutter release and he’s got the moment captured forever. Prompto checks the new photo and nods thoughtfully before saying, “Here’s the caption: Gladio can be a really slutty bottom even though he tries to act tough. Exhibit A: see photos from last night.”

  
From over the stove, Ignis tries to stifle a snort of amusement, but Gladio’s mouth falls open and he looks genuinely shocked for once. “You _didn’t_ ,” Gladio murmurs, his voice close to a growl. “You’d better delete them, Prom. I mean it.”

  
“Or what, you’ll give me a taste of my own medicine?” Prompto doesn’t care that it’s too early to start pushing his lover’s buttons, mostly because he loves the way he can see Gladio getting worked up. With a bright, if insolent grin, Prompto makes a point of taking another photo of Gladio as he says, “I’d like it and you know it.”

  
Gladio shifts in his chair, failing now to push aside the memories of the night before, when all three of them decided to torture him. Absolute, devastating torture it was, with Noctis and Ignis taking turns bossing him about and Prompto fucking him so hard he could barely think enough to do anything but moan. Which, of course, made him struggle to follow his orders and, in turn, gave the other two good enough reason to punish him exactly the way he likes. Then Ignis was buried inside him beside Prompto, and Gladio was gagging on Noctis’s cock, and the last thing he remembers is the tickle of Prompto’s hair between his ass cheeks and the wet warmth of a skilled tongue at his tender, abused hole. He’d come more times than he could count, and once his body finally couldn’t take it anymore, he’d passed out in a melted puddle of goo that used to be a strong, proud bodyguard to the prince.

  
Before he knows it, Gladio’s hard, and Prompto bites back a victorious smile as he flips through his camera’s memory.

  
“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Ignis declares, wiping his hands on a rag as he turns his attention away from a skillet on the stove and toward brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

  
“Who’s gonna wake up Noct?” Prompto asks, not looking particularly interested in moving from his lazy, lounging position in his chair.

  
It’s the question they have to ask almost every morning, since Noctis Lucis Caelum, the Crown Prince and the Crystal’s chosen, is a notorious slugabed who resents even the thought of dragging himself out of the comfortable warmth of his blanket cocoon. Getting him up without triggering a petulant fit is an art that the other three have only recently begun to master. Of course, once he’s finally awake, he’s the Noctis they all know and love, but that little morning gremlin, as Ignis once called him, always has to be defeated first.

  
“I’ll do it,” Gladio finally says when he realizes Ignis is too preoccupied with trying to hide vegetables in an omelet. He stands up with a grunt, thinking it’s well enough that he does it anyway, if only to deal with his stubborn erection.

  
Giving him an appraising once-over, Ignis smirks and says, “Best of luck.”

  
Gladio puffs his chest out and snorts. Then, with a flirtatious wink, he declares that, “If anyone can get him up, it’s me.”

  
“I’m surprised you can even walk,” Prompto taunts with a leer that quickly turns into demure batting eyelashes at Gladio’s withering glare. There’s something so delicious, Prompto thinks, about forcing Gladio to abandon that tough-guy exterior and admit he’s more sensitive—physically and emotionally—than he lets on.

  
With an annoyed shake of the head for good measure, Gladio turns back to the tent and goes to wake the beast.

  
The heady musk in the tent hits him hard, makes his nose scrunch up as he gets used to it again. He knows it’s the consequence of four grown men fucking and sleeping together in an enclosed space, and he actually rather enjoys it, once the initial edge of the scent mellows out.

  
Noctis is curled up in the center of the tent, wrapped in a mess of mismatched blankets and looking so deceptively innocent that Gladio almost forgets how merciless the prince was to him the night before, commanding him not to come and growling at him when he couldn’t help it. Noctis has one pillow under his head and another—one Gladio recognizes as Ignis’s—clutched to his chest. Gladio’s own pillow is close by, and when Gladio kneels down to hover over Noctis, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek and murmuring, “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Noctis immediately groans, grabs Gladio’s pillow, and slams it over his head.

  
It’s endearing, until he catches Noctis’s muffled snarl of, “Fuck off.”

  
Gladio hums and begins to unfurl the blankets around his lover’s body. Once the bare skin is available to him, he slowly runs his hands down Noctis’s stomach, not stopping until his fingers wrap around the prince’s cock. The same one Gladio remembers gagging on the night before. The memory shoots another pang of arousal down to his own groin, and he presses his lips to Noctis’s chest, kissing and licking at one nipple and then the other before saying, “I’d rather fuck you.”

  
The noise that escapes the pillow helmet then is one half gremlin annoyance and one half reluctant pleasure, and Gladio takes it as a positive sign that Noctis’s hips start to buck slightly while his cock stiffens in Gladio’s hand. He brushes his thumb over the tip of Noctis’s cock, wishing briefly that he had Ignis’s handjob skills, but content enough that Noctis moans and pulls Gladio’s pillow away from his face. And oh, if the prince doesn’t look absolutely debauched with his flushed cheeks and mussed hair and bitten lower lip. Gladio’s tongue traces an intricate but meaningless pattern down Noctis’s stomach as he stares up at Noctis, waiting to see when the prince’s eyes finally flutter open.

  
But they don’t, even once Gladio licks down Noctis’s length. Instead, all he gets is a stifled moan and a slurred “Gimme five more minutes.”

  
Well, Gladio thinks with a slight thrill, time to pull out the big guns. He moves back up Noctis’s body until he can press a kiss to his lover’s lips. At the same time, he reaches out above the makeshift bedroll, blindly searching for the little tube he knows is floating around somewhere. Once he finds it, Gladio performs an act of sheer, natural skill—and wishes the other two could have been there to witness it—to flip open the lube cap and coat his fingers one-handed, while his other hand supports his weight above the smaller man. He wanders back down between Noctis’s legs, his fingers quickly finding the prince’s entrance and resting there gently. Not pushing, not yet.

  
“I last longer than that,” Gladio whispers into his lover’s ear. The dark wisps of hair there flutter under his breath, but it’s only once his fingers breach Noctis that the man lets out a wanton gasp, arches into Gladio’s touch, and opens his eyes.

  
The look Noctis gives him is immediately filthy, made worse when he says, “After last night, I’ll be surprised if you can come at all.” His lips quirk up into a coquettish smirk, and just like that, Gladio knows he’s defeated the gremlin. And yet, perhaps predictably, now he’s the one reluctant to get out of bed just yet.

  
Gladio scoffs and attempts to look embarrassed about the events the night before, but frankly, he rather enjoyed it. More than that, if he’s being completely honest. Which he absolutely will refuse to be, if anyone asks him point blank. But they’ll all know, deep down, that he craves that kind of treatment every now and again. Noctis probably knows it best of all of them, considering he was the one to first comment on how Gladio’s heart rate spikes whenever the prince orders him to do something sexual. It’s not like he can refuse, right? His vows have to mean something after all.

  
He covers Noctis’s lips with his own again, and this time, Noctis kisses back, reaching up to comb his fingers through Gladio’s hair and give it a firm tug, enough to rip a low groan from the bodyguard’s throat. He retaliates in his own way, spreading his fingers inside Noctis and prodding around for the particularly sensitive spot he knows is hiding in there somewhere. If only he had Ignis’s incredible intuition in this matter. Finally, he finds the right spot, and Noctis throws his head back, mouth open in a silent scream, and the prince’s grip in Gladio’s hair tightens deliciously.

  
“Come on, Gladio,” Noctis says with a bratty sneer once he collects himself. “Prove you can come after last night.”

  
So Gladio does as he’s commanded. He pulls back, grabs Noctis’s legs, and guides them to one side, leaving a space between the back of his knees and his ass for Gladio to kneel. Noctis’s torso begins to follow his legs, rolling into a fetal position, but Gladio stops him, lest he manage to fall back asleep and render all this for naught.

  
Watching the way Noctis’s face twists in pleasure, Gladio pulls down his leather trousers, lines himself up, and slowly pushes into the prince, eliciting a moan from his lover so loud and lascivious that Prompto returns a singsong, “ _Moooooorning!_ ” from outside the tent.

  
Gladio grins and grips Noctis’s knee in one hand and hip in the other for leverage as he establishes a slow but forceful rhythm, mostly relying on his size rather than any true finesse to drive to Noctis crazy. After a few deep thrusts, he bends over to capture the prince’s lips again. Noctis returns the kiss, but that seems to be as much as he’s interested in contributing, instead apparently happy to lay there and let Gladio fuck him. Well, Gladio’s not going to complain.

  
He reaches around Noctis’s thigh to take the prince’s cock in his hand again, matching the rhythm of his strokes to that of his hips, and it’s not but two minutes later that Noctis is clawing at the back of Gladio’s neck, gasping out mumbled pleas that Gladio can’t really understand but knows are entirely unprincely regardless.

  
There’s a tender intimacy between them just before Gladio reaches his climax. They breathe each other’s breaths and stare into each other’s eyes, and Gladio’s entranced by the man under him, who smiles warmly and, just like that, destroys Gladio entirely. Noctis is close behind, coming over Gladio’s hand and the blanket under him. In his hazy post-orgasm relaxation, Gladio thinks that Ignis won’t be happy with having to wash come out of another blanket. The ones from last night, piled up high in one corner of the tent, will already take long enough. But Gladio can’t really bring himself to care about anything but the sated bliss on Noctis’s face.

  
Which dissolves into pale horror as Noctis reaches down behind himself to touch where they’re still joined. Gladio frowns and is about to ask what’s wrong when Noctis looks at him like he’s just purposefully murdered Noctis’s chocobo. 

  
“Gladio!” Noctis yelps, horror swiftly becoming gremlin anger. “What the fuck? You came inside me!”

  
“Yeah?” Gladio replies, frowning, almost certain his confusion is as plain as day. “I do that all the time. And didn’t you tell me to prove I could?”

  
Noctis pushes him away when he tries to steal another kiss and wriggles away from Gladio’s heat before curling up in a ball of morning annoyance. “Not when we’re camping with no showers,” Noctis says as if it’s obvious, and Gladio scoffs dismissively, ready to defend himself, but Noctis continues before he can. “And now I have to spend the entire day walking around in the fucking heat! With your come dripping down my fucking leg!”

  
“Oh, come on, Princess,” Gladio says flippantly, “it’s not that bad. Stop bitching.” To be honest, it sounds pretty fantastic to him. He leers then, crawling back toward Noctis, who only glares at him. In a growled whisper that Gladio knows usually raises the hairs at the back of the prince’s neck, the bodyguard says, “And anyway, now you won’t be able to forget me inside you.”

  
“You’ll be lucky if I forget to punch you.”

  
Gladio grins, a bit lionish, and gives Noctis a sharp slap on the ass as he stands—or, stands as much as the tent will allow him—and fastens his trousers again. “Better hurry up, Princess,” he purrs, “or breakfast’s gonna go cold and Iggy’s gonna be next.” He offers a wink in response to Noctis’s offended glower and leaves his lover behind in the tent as he emerges into the fresh air and bright morning sun.

  
He blinks until his eyes adjust to the light, and then he immediately focuses on Prompto, who’s straddling Ignis’s lap and kissing him so deeply that Gladio almost feels like he’s interrupting. One of Ignis’s hands holds Prompto’s hips as they rock across his thighs while the other tries valiantly to tend to the nearby skillet so their breakfast doesn’t burn.

  
Prompto’s eyes open, and when he sees Gladio, he pulls back from kissing Ignis to wipe at his swollen lips and glance at the tent. “He’s coming?”

  
“He’s upset I came,” Gladio says with an eye roll. “Inside him, at least.”

  
“Great.” Ignis shakes his head and pats Prompto’s leg until the man clambers off him. “Fantastic work, Gladio,” he says as he pulls the skillet off the stove and slides the omelet onto a steel camping plate. “Nothing says imminent success like a sour, irritable Noctis.”

  
Shrugging, Gladio admits, “Guess I’m still not thinking straight after last night.” As if that somehow transfers the guilt back to the rest of them. But Gladio starts to realize that he really may have just made their day harder than it strictly needed to be. Whoops. It was, at least, mostly worth it, as far as he was concerned.

  
Just then, Noctis emerges from the tent, dressed and frowning. Moodily, he snaps, “You never think straight, asshole.”

  
Ignis glances between the two of them and sighs before forcing a pointed smile. “Well, perhaps we might all at least think _logically_ today and avoid any unnecessary conflicts.” With that, he shoves the omelet toward Noctis, who conspicuously avoids Gladio as he joins the rest of them around the remains of last night’s campfire.

  
“Hey Noct,” Prompto chimes in happily from where he lounges, sprawled in his chair, limbs askew and camera pointed in the prince’s direction. When Noctis looks at him, he says, “You’re walking kinda funny.” Ignis shoots him an incredulous look, Gladio snorts, and as Noctis’s glower deepens, Prompto grins innocently and snaps a photo.

***

Later that day, under the stiflingly hot desert sun, Noctis finds himself still in a particularly grouchy mood, made worse by the fact that he can hear Prompto and Gladio chatting happily a short distance behind him. Noctis doesn’t _like_ sulking like this—the future king can’t sulk—but he’s wildly uncomfortable and wallowing in his irritation helps him forget the unpleasant squelching at his ass and the dribble of come that’s drying itchy down the inside of his thigh. And worst of all, Gladio was right. He can’t forget the feeling of his bodyguard inside him. Similarly, can’t forget the way his bodyguard writhed under him the night before.

  
He stops briefly to squint at the horizon, wondering if that’s the Wall he can see in the far distance. Wonders if he could manage to get Gladio in trouble there if they make it back before his temper fades. Without revealing the cause for his anger, of course. That’s always the rub.

  
Suddenly, Ignis appears beside him, rubbing a hand down Noctis’s back before settling it in the curve just above his waistband. “Are you feeling alright?” the adviser asks. “Perhaps we ought to stop and rest for a bit.”

  
Noctis takes the chance to let out a bit of his frustration, and he shrugs Ignis’s hand off him as he says, loudly and dramatically and every bit the brat he sometimes wishes he could always be, “Am I feeling alright? No!” He whips around to glare at Gladio, who is watching him with an eyebrow raised. Beside the bodyguard, Prompto bites back a smile, and it flares Noctis’s chagrin. “No, I’m not feeling _alright_. I’ve got come dripping down my leg and it’s too fucking _hot_ out here!”

  
“Then lose the jacket.” The self-satisfied challenge in Gladio’s eyes is hot and intense, and before he knows it, Noctis is charging toward him, raising a fist like he’d love nothing more than to smash Gladio’s nose into his skull.

  
But Ignis manages to catch him before he can cover the distance between them. Holding Noctis back with some effort, Ignis says, “What did I say about unnecessary conflict, Noctis?”

  
“This one is necessary, Specs.”

  
“Oh, wow,” Prompto says cheerfully, as if he’s just been delivered the world’s best present all wrapped up with a pretty bow, “you’re really that hard, aren’t you?” Prompto can’t hide his bright smile anymore as his eyes rake down Noctis’s body and land squarely on the obvious erection tenting the prince’s pants. The shock on Noctis’s face is delicious, and after exchanging a look with Ignis, Prompto goes up to Noctis, palming him through his trousers and pressing a series of wet kisses to the prince’s neck. Prompto hums happily and murmurs, “Maybe I can help.”

  
Noctis can’t help but melt under his best friend’s touch, and a quiet, helpless moan escapes him, but he channels all his remaining anger to shoot Gladio a venomous glare over Prompto’s shoulder. But the man just watches smugly, as if daring Noctis to keep it up. But the prince quickly realizes as Prompto’s lips meet his that it’s impossible to stay mad forever.

  
Rather impressed at the efficacy of Prompto’s methods, Ignis goes back to Gladio and manages to keep an equally impressive even tone as he says, “Well, at the very least, this ought to be a nice show.”

  
“You’re welcome,” Gladio says, knocking his shoulder against Ignis’s.

  
Prompto pushes Noctis up against a cool rock formation, nipping down his jaw and neck and sliding one hand up the prince’s shirt and the other down his pants, and just about every sulky thought Noctis has had all day disappears in a flash, immediately replaced by a heat between his hips. Moaning, Noctis shifts to press into his best friend and reaches around to grasp Prompto’s ass, biting out a sharp, “Fuck, Blondie.”

  
“Nope, not a chance,” Prompto says with a smirk as he flicks a thumb over one of Noctis’s nipples. “I’m not gonna be the next one with come dripping down his leg.”

  
Groaning pitifully, Noctis declares, “You’re a goddamn tease.”

  
“Ow,” Prompto says, feigning anguish. And then the bawdy playfulness is back and he purrs into the prince’s ear, “Don’t worry, Noct, I’ll take care of you. Clean you up a little.” With that, he jerks Noctis around until the prince faces the large rock and Prompto can kiss down his back as he goes to his knees. He pulls Noctis’s waistband down with him and reveals his lover’s pale ass and, yes, a trail of Gladio’s dried come tracking down the inside of his thigh. Prompto presses his lips against each of Noctis’s ass cheeks before burying his nose between them.

  
Noctis’s moan is loud and strangled, and he holds onto the rock for dear life.

  
Still a ways behind them, Gladio and Ignis share a look that silently communicates how lucky they both feel to have chanced into this complicated and yet entirely natural relationship. As he watches Prompto go to town on Noctis, Gladio feels a shiver run down his spine. He knows well that whatever Prompto lacks in size, he makes up in sheer force and enthusiasm. Gladio glances down at himself, feeling his cock starting to strain against the front of his leather trousers for the second time that day.

“Hey, Iggy,” he says to the adviser beside him, whose unbreakable composure confounds Gladio completely. “Think you can spare one of your legendary handies?”

  
Ignis seems to appraise him, everything about his face steady and uniform except for the heat burning behind his eyes. “Do you promise not to rile Noctis up again?” Ignis asks. “At least for today. There’s only so much I can do to hold him back. If you aren’t careful, we might have a repeat of last night.”

  
“Yeah, sure,” Gladio says, although he’d say just about anything to get off at this point, and again, a repeat of last night is hardly the worst thing he can imagine, “I promise.”

Then Ignis nods and Gladio wastes no time unfastening his trousers and pulling them down far enough for Ignis to reach over and take his cock in his hand. And by Six, Ignis knows what he’s doing. Within moments, the adviser’s got Gladio sucking in breaths through gritted teeth. A carefully timed fingernail skates gently along the underside of his cock and Gladio’s moan is closer to a growl. Once again, he’s amazed by Ignis’s talent and can’t help but grit out, “Where the _fuck_ did you learn that?” Which, predictably, earns him a huffing laugh and another pass of the fingernail.

  
Noctis’s legs feel weak and he’s genuinely worried he might collapse if Prompto keeps doing that with his tongue. It laps at him, digs inside him, does everything Noctis can imagine and more to make him lose his mind, and Prompto moans the entire time like it’s his favorite thing in the world. And honestly, Noctis thinks with a sudden clarity, it may very well be. Then Prompto’s hand wraps around his cock, gives him a few twisting pumps, and Noctis lets out a strangled scream, painting the rock with his come and panting hard until he can focus on the Wall in the distance again.

  
“ _Holy_ …” he murmurs, and that’s all he can manage as he turns around and pulls his trousers up. Prompto’s victorious grin is impossibly endearing, and Noctis can see how excited his best friend is, too.

  
“Better now?” Prompto asks as he wipes his lower lip with his thumb. And then, knowing how it affects Noctis, Prompto sucks his thumb into his mouth to savor the last taste of Gladio, which has the side effect of making his core clench down around nothing, muscles shivering in anticipation. For as much as he loves fucking Gladio until the big guy passes out or teasing Noctis until the prince can’t take it anymore, Prompto just _adores_ having his lovers inside him, too. It’s been too long, he thinks, although it’s barely been two days.

  
Still struggling to find his voice, Noctis nods and takes Prompto’s face in his hands, pulling his best friend in for a fierce kiss that’s broken when they hear a string of low, guttural curses behind them. Glancing over Prompto’s shoulder, Noctis holds Ignis’s hot gaze as the adviser brings Gladio to the edge and sets him over with a careful, practiced efficiency. 

  
Most of Gladio’s come falls onto the desert sand, but a fair amount coats Ignis’s hand, and when Prompto notices this, he perks up and says, “Looks like my services are needed once again.” And just like that, he’s jogging back to Ignis, leaving Noctis alone by the rock to collect himself. He blinks a few times and reaches up to rub a stubborn, gritty bit of sleep from his eye.

  
He watches with a sated amusement as Prompto licks Ignis’s hand clean, taking care to suck each finger deep, and Noctis is even more amused by how obvious Ignis’s resolve is crumbling under the blond’s ministrations. Then he notices that Gladio is walking up to him, a swagger in his step. The bodyguard tucks himself back into his leather trousers and rolls his shoulders, which makes the bared muscles of his chest and stomach roll temptingly. Noctis swallows back a weak vestige of anger, finding it replaced by a fond annoyance that felt entirely comfortable.

  
When he’s close enough for Noctis to smell his musk, Gladio says, “Truce, Princess?” There’s a teasing warmth hiding behind those amber eyes, and a smirk pulls at his lips. No matter how hard Noctis tries to force a dark glare, he ultimately fails. He’s weak to that look Gladio gives him, and his bodyguard knows it. The only saving grace, Noctis decides, is that he knows how weak Gladio is to him, too.

  
“On one condition,” Noctis declares, and Gladio raises an eyebrow in question. “You aren’t allowed to come again today. No matter what.”

  
“Noct!” Gladio looks like he’s about to go off about how that’s not fair, how that’s so impossibly cruel, how he never did anything to deserve a punishment as merciless as that.

  
Payback’s a bitch, Noctis wants to say, but instead all he adds is a firm, “And that’s an order, Gladio,” knowing that will only make Gladio’s struggle even sweeter. The bodyguard’s face hardens slightly, then he gives a single, sharp nod. Noctis smiles proudly and gives Gladio’s chest a set of pats.

  
He’s about to push past Gladio to return to Prompto and Ignis, but then he sees how Prompto’s got his back pressed against Ignis’s chest, head falling back onto the taller man’s shoulder. Ignis is giving Prompto a handjob that Noctis knows is absolutely world-class, and Prompto’s giving just as much as he can back, grinding his ass against Ignis and moaning sluttishly. He would feel bad interrupting, so Noctis glances Gladio up and down and says, “Good boy,” before pulling him down for a kiss. Gladio’s hands find his waist instantly, and it’s almost like the prince’s bad mood never existed at all.

  
Gladio pulls away a moment later and glances back at the others. Giving him one last kiss, Gladio whispers across Noctis’s lips, “Sorry, Princess, I’ve got some some karma to deliver.” And with that, the tattooed man pulls away and jogs off to grab Prompto’s camera from its precarious perch on a nearby rock.

  
Later that night over dinner, as they scroll through Gladio’s blurry and poorly framed photos of Prompto and Ignis, Noctis suggests revisiting the shots from the night before, and when it all devolves from there, as it always does, the prince is very vigilant to ensure Gladio obeys his order. In the back of his mind as he finally gets Ignis’s hands on him, Noctis thinks revenge is deliciously sweet, and that’s more than enough of a dessert for him.


End file.
